In the courtyard!

Xia Chen eyed his uncle, a faint smile tugging his lips—everything unfolded as he’d guessed.

Six hundred years of marquis splendor—relying solely on loyalty and patriotism, how could it weather six centuries of power churns, still dazzling, never fading?

The Marquis of Zhendong’s patriotism might hold true, but loyalty to the throne? That begged debate.

From old Marquis Xia to Xia Qián, decades holed up in the estate, rarely stepping out, shunning the world.

Wasn’t it Wen’s suspicion driving it?

For the house’s safety and the next generation’s shot, they had no choice.

Lately, his father Xia Yuan scored big in the East Wilderness.

Soon, he’d likely return to the capital—outcome clear: surrender command, shun court, biding time for the next war to rise again.

Political savvy, sure—but who wouldn’t feel a pang facing that?

“Lu Li’s downfall—guess the civil faction’s grinning widest!”

Xia Chen’s voice sank.

“Right. This time, Elder Li struck himself—His Majesty ditching Lu Li might tie to that deeper root.”

Xia Qián nodded. Though the Lamplighters balanced civil and martial blocs, they leaned harder on curbing the civil side. These years, the civil faction swelled, a force now

threatening the throne.

“You’ve pieced out plenty—that’s sharp. You lit the fuse on this.

“On the face of it, Li Wenzhong’s leading the charge, but he’s kept balanced all these years—hardly a sleuth.

“He’d unlikely risk snatching merit from the Lamplighters’ jaws. Word is, yesterday you took men out solo, nabbed them, then tipped Li Wenzhong, right?”

Xia Qián gazed at the scenery, unruffled.

Xia Chen jolted—Xia Qián knew that too?

“I could guess it—others can too. The capital’s crawling with sharp minds.”

Xia Qián fixed him deep, “Lay low awhile—I’ll handle some heat for you!”

“Thanks, Uncle!”

Xia Chen bowed, all gentlemanly grace—Xia Qián nodded, pleased.

“Go on!”

He waved Xia Chen off.

Smart folk needed few words!

…

Days later, the capital’s bureaucracy quaked.

The Ministry of Justice and guard mobilized—a titan’s fall thrilled many.

Top slots were one-per-pit—only when the big fish dropped could the small fry climb.

In shadows unseen, Lamplighters swarmed, hammering Dafeng’s Inspectorate.

Scores of capital-hidden spies were nabbed—some slashed on the spot.

Far northwest, armies massed—lockdown, war prep.

Guarding against Daqing west and Dafeng north!

Ready for battle anytime.

Martial nobles got palace summons for war talks—even the cabinet debated: if the northwest flared, who’d march?

In this smoky tension, Marquis Anwu Xia Qián faced repeated palace calls.

Xia Chen caught whispers—His Majesty might tap Xia Qián, maybe even old Marquis Xia Chutian, in seclusion.

Thirty-six years back, Xia Chutian nearly crushed Dafeng in the Huaiyang War—court and field trusted that veteran might.

“Grandfather won’t ride out. His Huaiyang haul was too grand—win another war now, he’d be king material. Impossible. Neither His Majesty nor the cabinet would let that fly.”

In the garden, Xia Chen strolled with Xia Qián, chatting.

Since that day, Xia Qián often summoned him, sharing tidbits, probing his takes—baffling Xia Chen.

Xia Qián eyed Xia Chen, half a step behind, emotions tangled. Who’d guess this guard commander sparked court chaos?

“So, if Daqing sparks war again, it’s you or the Grand Marshal for the march!”

Xia Chen grinned. Few in Dawu could helm a grand army—fewer still could best Daqing: old Marquis Xia Chutian, Xia Qián from the South Border War’s glory, and Grand

Marshal Ouyang Jing.

Two Xias among them—no wonder the clan stayed low, shedding command post-victory.

Any emperor would squint at that.

“His Majesty’s ordered Second Brother to finish off the East Wilderness quick—dual fronts pile on too much heat. Linger too long, and Daqing out west will meddle—that’s

when it gets dicey!

“Plus, His Majesty won’t let me and Second Brother wield swords together.”

Xia Yuan held over a hundred thousand troops in the East Wilderness. A Dafeng war? Thirty thousand more—at least forty thousand under Xia banners, half Dawu’s might.

No one dared bet on that.

Xia Chen fell quiet—his parents would soon return from the East Wilderness.

Xia Qián sighed inwardly at Xia Chen’s blank face.

…

Tension thickened—Lamplighter spies sniffed Dafeng troop moves, sparking late-night cabinet huddles.

Beyond that, another capital bombshell: the Lamplighters’ new commander rose.

Ma Song!

His climb stunned all—he’d been a nobody, lowest of the eight divisions.

Yet, dodging Lu Li’s fall, he vaulted up, snagging the prize—a dark horse win that set tongues wagging.

Xia Chen skimmed the scoop, unbothered—Lamplighters weren’t his game now.

He awaited promotion—the map dust settling meant reaping rewards.

A day or two, maybe—he’d climb a rung.

A smile crept up.

Plus, another tidbit: Qingya Xiaozhu burned down the night after he left—razed to ash.

No bodies survived!

Guests who’d graced it mourned—their goddess Qingya, gone forever.